Andy Burnham comes out fighting against Conservative smears

The Tories' attempts to pin the blame for NHS failings on the former health secretary are both politically unwise and unmerited by the facts.

The Conservative spin machine has gone into overdrive ahead of the publication of the Keogh report into failings at 14 NHS trusts in a desperate attempt to pin the blame on the last Labour government. In an abandonment of the consensual approach adopted by David Cameron after the Francis report into Mid-Staffs, when he declared that the government would not "blame the last Secretary of State for Health" or "seek scapegoats", the Tories have taken aim at shadow health secretary Andy Burnham, the man responsible for the NHS from 2009-10, briefing the press over the weekend that his position is now untenable.

In an letter published in today's Telegraph, 10 Conservative MPs, undoubtedly with the tacit encouragement of Downing Street, openly call for his resignation. They write:

It is clear now that the last Labour government oversaw thousands of unnecessary deaths in our NHS Hospitals and failed to expose or confront these care scandals. The patients we represent were betrayed. It would be an outrage if Andy Burnham were ever to return to the role of secretary of state for health.

In response to this declaration of political war, Burnham has come out fighting. Writing in the Telegraph, he points out several inconvenient truths that will almost certainly be lost in the media's coverage of the report today. 

Far from seeking to 'bury bad news', as the Conservatives allege, Burnham notes that "before the last Election, I took action in respect of Basildon and Tameside and after ordering an in-depth review of all hospitals in England, I left in place warnings over five of the 14". In doing so, as less partisan papers reported at the weekend, he overruled health officials determined to keep the failings from the front pages. 

Burnham goes on to point out that the criteria for inclusion in the Keogh report "was hospitals with a high mortality ratio in 2011 and 2012 – not 2005" (after Labour had left office, in other words) and that "six of the 14 now have a higher mortality rate than in the last year of the last Government."

In addition, he notes that there has been "a major deterioration" in A&E waiting times at the hospitals in question, with all 14 in breach of the government’s 4-hour A&E target, and "severe cuts to staffing levels", identified by the Francis report as one of the main causes of the Stafford scandal. 

With the Tories trailing Labour by 30 points on the NHS, their desire to hold the last government responsible for any failings, as they done so successfully in the case of the economy, is understandable. But not only is it one they would be wise to resist, as Rachel Sylvester argues in today's Times (the public would rather politicians spent their fixing the problems with the NHS than arguing over which party is to blame), this line of attack is also entirely unmerited by the facts. If Burnham can derive any consolation from the events of the last 48 hours, it is that this smear campaign will almost certainly backfire. 

Shadow health secretary Andy Burnham, who served as health secretary from 2009-10. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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What’s the secret of the world’s best-paid sports manager? Ask the Chicago Cubs

Theo Epstein is a star because he values the person as much as the player.

As I write, the Chicago Cubs, perennial underachievers, are three wins away from reaching baseball’s World Series for the first time since 1945. By the time you read this they may have crashed out. Besides, baseball – like cricket – is a language that asks a lot of its translators. So, in writing about the Cubs, I’ll skip the baseball bits. Fortunately, the lessons of the Cubs’ success (they were the outstanding team of 2016, even if they don’t win the World Series) transcend baseball.

To understand the future of sport – and perhaps employment – I recommend a pair of profiles of Theo Epstein, the president of baseball operations for the Cubs, one published in the New York Times and the other written by David Axelrod (Barack Obama’s strategist) for the New Yorker.

Epstein, 42, has just agreed a contract extension worth $50m over five years, making him the highest-paid non-player in professional sport. There is plenty in the profiles on his whizzy use of data analytics; his algorithmic tests that measure players’ co-ordination (essentially using neuroscience to measure talent); as well as the Cubs’ coaching programme dedicated to mental health and managing stress. Most timely and important of all is Epstein’s emphasis on character. He talks about “scouting the person more than the player”. He wants the right kind of people on the field.

“In the draft room [where the team decides which players to sign], we will always spend more than half the time talking about the person rather than the player,” he has said. “We ask our scouts to provide three detailed examples of how these young players faced adversity on the field and responded to it, and three examples of how they faced adversity off the field.”

Epstein is well known for empowering a “geek department” inside his baseball teams. Yet instead of perceiving a conflict between science and the human realm, he sees the two as part of the same big picture. He craves players with character who can benefit from the insights of science.

“Character” is a vexed subject inside sport. It sets off uncomfortable associations. Talking too much about character – building it, or even just valuing it – sounds dangerously close to endorsing an amateur ethos. Victorian public schools often celebrated sport explicitly in opposition to intelligence, even achievement. H H Almond, the headmaster of Loretto from 1862, got an A for candour (if nothing else) when he ranked his school’s priorities: “First – Character. Second – Physique. Third – Intelligence.”

The Victorian notion of games cast a long shadow over sport and society in the 20th century. The first phase of ultra-professionalism, in the office as well as on the sports field, was a reaction to Almond’s set of values. The concept of character was recast as a consolation prize, doled out to the class dunce or the twelfth man. Crucially, reformers and nostalgics alike bought in to the historical perception of a separation or conflict between character, intellectual life and sporting achievement.

The Cubs, however, know better. To adapt Almond’s clumsy saying: intelligence and physical skills derive, significantly though not entirely, from character. Character is now being understood not as the destination, but the foundation, even the process.

This is an overdue reassessment. In the loosest terms, I would identify three phases in the development of professional sport. Phase one optimised the body. Sadly, though we are still inching forward, the human body is now reaching the outer wall of virtuosity. All sports will tail off in speed of progress, in terms of pure physicality.

Phase two of modern sport turned to psychology. Realising how hard it is to gain an edge through physical conditioning, everyone suddenly started talking about the mind: the inner game of this, the mental game of that. However, reconfiguring the mental approach of elite athletes – already in their twenties and thirties, with deeply ingrained habits and highly evolved psychological software – is also exceptionally difficult. That is why many top athletes recoil from conventional “sports psychology”; the discipline is oversold and under-sceptical.

We are now entering phase three: the whole person. Sustained high achievement relies on something much deeper than a few sessions with a sports psychologist. So you need the right people in the room.

Coaches in future will be numerate and intellectually unthreatened by the scientific advances that illuminate sport. But the best coaches will never lose sight of a parallel truth: that although science can help us to understand what happens on the sports field, and sometimes how to do it better, it cannot conveniently convert athletes into inert particles, as though it were a ­physical science. Coaching can benefit from ­science but remains an art – one that revolves around understanding and helping people.

In most sports, players and coaches are really in the business of decision-making. The winning team, as Pep Guardiola says, makes more good decisions. Sport, in other words, advances when it trains people to make better decisions. There are now highly evolved analytical techniques for understanding how those decisions influence results. However, the athletes themselves are still people, imperfect and imperfectible. If you want machines, you get dummies.

This month, I was asked to found a new institute of advanced sports studies at the University of Buckingham. The mission is to create undergraduate and postgraduate courses that attend to the entire mindset – critical thinking, ethics and leadership, as well as data analytics and sports science: a kind of “PPE of sport”. After a misleading triple fissure – character, body, mind – sport is starting to put the pieces back together again. That’s why, this month, I’m rooting for Epstein’s Cubs.

Ed Smith is a journalist and author, most recently of Luck. He is a former professional cricketer and played for both Middlesex and England.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood